Do I Know You?
by technicolour
Summary: It’s completely over between Harry and Ginny—not that anything ever really began in the first place. Then Ginny loses her memory, and Harry wins her heart back. Faced with the choice, will Harry agree to let Ginny regain her memory?
1. One

It's completely over between Harry and Ginny—not that anything ever really began in the first place. Then Ginny loses her memory, and Harry wins her heart back. Faced with the choice, will Harry agree to let Ginny regain her memory?

Set in Harry's seventh year—he defeated Lord Voldemort in his sixth with the help of Ron, Hermione and Ginny, and is more or less recovering from the trauma and adapting to life as a normal boy—and Ginny's sixth year.

**Do I Know You?**

**One**

Harry leaned back lazily against the trunk of the tree, arms crossed and eyes squinting languidly around at his surroundings.

The Sunday afternoon was sunny, yet breezy, and he had the added benefit of idling under the shade of a tree. Life wasn't so bad.

Students were scattered all around him on the grass; laughing, talking, reading— generally enjoying themselves.

Even the giant squid in the lake was relaxing—it was floating close to the surface of the water, occasionally stretching out a tentacle or two to frolic with the handful of students who were splashing about in the lake.

It was lazy weather, as Harry called it.

Beside Harry, however, Ron and Hermione were bickering too heatedly to properly appreciate the weather.

Harry's forehead creased a little as he listened to their bantering.

"Ron! Give me back my book!" Hermione's agitated squeals resounded through the air.

"_Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms?_ Mione, you're nuts! I don't even know what the title means!" A derisive snort from Ron.

"It's for leisure purposes! And how can you not know what it means? Hey—give it back!" Now an exasperated noise from Hermione.

"I would be bloody nuts to read this for leisure! Why, I-"

Harry tuned out. He didn't think he could bear listening to them anymore—their squabbling was driving him up the wall.

Maybe he should just take a snooze instead. It was certainly a nice afternoon for one, and he had finished all the homework that was due the next day anyway.

Harry's eyelids fluttered shut.

"I'll give you the book back if-"

"Don't be silly, Matilda, you've got it all wrong!"

"Er- er- Trudy, would you like to go out with me?"

"Neville Longbottom! You come back here or I'll-"

"Ron! You infuriating-"

Voices were drifting by and mingling in the lazy air, creating a sort of clashing but still somewhat harmonious melody.

Harry shut his eyes tightly. It was rather noisy—he didn't think he would be able to pick out a specific person's voice if he had to. Everybody seemed to be talking at the same time.

"Thea, this looks like a nice spot."

Harry's eyes snapped open faster than a Firebolt whizzing through the air. He recognized that voice.

Was that-? Could that be-?

"Yeah, sure, let's sit down here then, Ginny."

It was! It was Ginny!

And she was sitting down with her friend—Anthea, was it? –just a little distance away from where he was situated.

All thoughts of napping immediately flew out of Harry's head and he concentrated his full attention on watching the pretty red-headed witch and her friend some way away from him. Even the loud buzz of conversation around him went unheard.

Harry watched intently as Ginny sat down on the grass, flicking some of her glossy auburn hair behind her shoulder. Her hair looked very nice under the glinting sunlight.

Now she was laughing over something with her friend. They were both giggling mirthfully and quite uncontrollably on the grass. Ginny looked extremely pretty when she laughed.

Not that she wasn't pretty _all_ the time, of course.

It just occurred to Harry that he was acting very, very stalker-esque.

Right.

He better stop that now.

Oh- Ginny was now flashing that extremely winning smile of hers… Harry's heart always skipped a beat whenever he laid eyes on that irresistible smile.

_Now_.

Harry stared fascinated as Ginny's long slender fingers reached up and pushed back a stray lock of her wonderful-looking hair.

Like _now_.

And now she was-

_Now_!

Harry extremely reluctantly tore his eyes away from Ginny, who was talking animatedly to her friend—she looked so cute gesticulating so enthusiastically like that!

Must look at something else. Must look at something else.

Harry's eyes landed on his shoes, which if you thought about it, were still in the direction of Ginny, but hey, he knew when not to push his luck and decided to himself that this was as good as it was going to get.

It wouldn't be so stalker-like if he just _happened_ to catch bits and pieces of their conversation, would it?

Harry strained his ears to hear what Ginny and her friend were saying—after all, they were quite some distance away.

"Hey… Gin, who do you fancy?"

Harry's heart jumped a little in his chest. That was the exact question he had always wanted to ask Ginny, but had never managed to work up the courage to.

"I don't know… no one particular at the moment, I suppose. That last break-up with Dean was rather depressing, I guess."

Harry's heart sank a little.

He would have preferred that Ginny tell her friend she fancied Harry Potter, especially now that he had realized that he… well, sort of fancied her too, but he guessed it would have been too good to be true- Ginny was long past the days of her childhood when she had been infatuated with his person.

Oh well. At least she didn't fancy any other particular person at the moment, which still gave him a fair chance, he supposed.

"Oooh, you may not fancy anyone, Gin, but I know someone who is definitely attracted to you!"

Harry raised his eyebrows and he felt his whole body stiffen. His heart was pumping rapidly.

He couldn't have been that obvious, could he?

"Who?" Ginny was the picture of adorable curiosity, her eyes wide with surprise and alarm, her cheeks slightly flushed. Harry felt his rapidly-pumping heart melt into goo.

"Wolfe Canewell, that's who! He has been professing his undying affection for you to his friends and I got wind of the matter." Anthea, if that's what her name really was, proclaimed triumphantly.

Harry's eyebrows shot up so high that they nearly disappeared into his tousled black hair. He clenched his fists tightly, and his body tensed even more.

Wasn't Wolfe Canewell that annoying and arrogant sixth-year _Slytherin_?

That seemed to be the main question on Ginny's mind too- "Isn't Wolfe Canewell that Slytherin in our year?"

"Yeah, that's him, alright- so… do you return his feelings?" Harry found Anthea, if that's what her name truly was, highly annoying.

She needn't even ask! He growled in his mind. Ginny would _never_ fancy a _Slytherin_!

But Ginny seemed to be taking a considerably long time, or so it seemed to Harry, to refuse the idea of her ever liking Wolfe Canewell point-blank.

"I-I-" She faltered before composing herself. "Well, I suppose I'm flattered…"

Harry fixed his gaze keenly on the unsure expression on her face. Come on, Ginny, he pleaded with her in his heart. This shouldn't be so hard—he's a bloody _Slytherin_ for crying out loud!

Anthea, however, cut Ginny short. "Speak of the devil, Gin… Wolfe Canewell is headed your way!"

Harry really, really disliked her then. His head immediately snapped up, and his eyes closely followed the blonde-haired Slytherin as he made his way to the patch of grass where Ginny was perched apprehensively.

"Er… Hi, Ginny," Canewell tentatively began.

"Hello." Ginny shot him a small, somewhat nervous smile and tucked a tendril of her hair behind her ear.

Harry stifled a growl; he longed to jump up from where he was sitting, stride over there and tell Canewell to buzz off.

Beside him, he thought he felt Ron stiffen as well. Was he, too, aware of the situation at hand?

"May I sit down here?" Canewell was now requesting of Ginny, indicating the tuft of grass right next to her.

"Er-"

"No! You may not! Get away from her, Canewell!" Ron hollered angrily, jerking up from his position next to Harry and storming towards the trio.

Harry groaned. Much as he was relieved and glad that Ron had done that, for he had only been a split-second faster than Harry himself, he was aware that it was not the smartest thing to do.

Especially in a case that involved a girl like Ginny Weasly.

"Ron! What the hell do you think you're doing! Wolfe can very well sit here if he pleases to!" Ginny was now incensed, her brown eyes sparkling with rage.

"Gin! Are you bloody out of your mind? He's a-a-a _Slytherin_!" Ron spat the word out as if it were filthy.

Which it was, actually, Harry mused. But, back to the scene brewing like a storm in a teacup.

"So I've noticed, Ron! I'm not taking any more of your bloody nonsense! So what if he's a Slytherin? I don't need you to interfere in my doings!" Ginny hurled back, livid with rage.

"Ginny! You can't—it's just wrong! For Merlin's sake—a Slytherin! I'm just trying to _protect _you!"

Uh oh. Harry cringed. Ron had just used the word. The one that Ginny hated to be used in her context. _Protect_. He prayed to Merlin that his friend would get out of this alive and in one piece.

"PROTECT! PROTECT ME! I can effing well handle myself, Ronald Weasly! For Merlin's sake, I don't need ANYONE, AT ALL, to effing PROTECT ME!" Ginny was practically screeching, her anger having reached its peak.

"But-"

"I'm not taking any more of your effing crap! Petrificus Totalus!" Ginny, truly outraged now, brandished her wand from her pocket and thundered the first spell that came to mind.

Ron immediately fell to the ground with a thud, his mouth wide open in shock.

Ginny merely whipped around and stormed away, leaving everybody present to stare with astonishment at her retreating back and slowly process what had just took place.

Anthea quickly scrambled to her feet and ran after Ginny's disappearing figure, in what everybody assumed was a bid to go calm her down.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, horrified, as she rushed to his side. Harry jumped up and strode over there too, where he pulled out his wand and muttered the counter-curse.

Ron sat up and rubbed his neck, an extremely sour expression on his face.

"_Pathetic_." The trio looked up to see Canewell sneering at Ron, his arms crossed smugly. "Simply _pathetic_. If it wasn't for your sister-"

Harry felt a fervent urge to punch him.

"You bloody well stay away from my sister, Canewell! If I catch you touching a single hair on her head…" Ron's voice was dangerously low, vehemence written all over his face.

Canewell threw him a mocking glance, taunting, "Well then, we'll see what you can do, and what _I_ can do. Ginny is a _very_ pretty girl."

With that, he swiveled around and swiftly walked away.

"Why, that no good git! If that filthy bast- Let go of me!"

Hermione and Harry were both holding firmly onto Ron, restraining him from running after Canewell and beating the living daylights out of him.

Harry was trembling with rage too, and his fist itched to connect with Canewell's jaw as he watched him walk away with narrowed eyes.

- - -

The next few days were rather awkward ones for Harry and Hermione.

Ginny was still mad at Ron, and Ron, though mostly worried for his sister's wellbeing, was equally incensed with Ginny for humiliating him in front of everybody.

The two people who were caught in the middle—namely Harry and Hermione—were thus forced to deal with huge amounts of tension and murderous glares being shot back and forth between Ron and Ginny whenever the two were in the same room, which was quite often, considering that they were both in the same House and all.

On the fourth day following the big blow-up, however, Harry clumsily entered the Gryffindor common room to find Ginny alone inside.

"Hey." He greeted her with a smile and plopped himself down on the seat next to her.

"Hello, Harry." She looked up from the huge tome she was studying and offered him a small smile too before resuming her pursuing of the book.

Harry stared at her.

A curl of her brilliant red hair had fallen to the side of her face, and he fought his immense desire to tuck it back behind her ear for her.

His fingers twitched.

He contented them with running them through his own incorrigibly messy hair instead.

"Ginny… Ron's right, you know." Harry plucked up the courage to broach the topic, even though he was extremely sure that he didn't want an outraged red-headed witch shouting and spewing deadly spells at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Ginny's fingers reached up and brushed that stray lock of hair back to where it belonged, her eyes still firmly fixed on the book, even though Harry was quite sure she was longer really concentrating on it.

Harry heaved an inaudible sigh of relief. At least his fingers had stopped twitching now.

"Gin… Canewell's bad news—Ron's right." Harry said softly.

This time, Ginny raised her eyes to meet Harry's.

Those doe-like brown eyes… Harry felt himself starting to drown in them.

But… there was irritation in those eyes at the moment, something which jolted Harry to sit up and at least attempt not to lose himself in them.

"Why does everybody tell me that? First Ron, then Hermione, and now you, Harry." Ginny was irate for sure.

Oh well, Harry thought. Better irate than livid.

"But, Gin, you didn't see what happened after you left-" Harry protested, frustrated.

Merlin, how was he supposed to portray the awfulness of that scene accurately to the annoyed red-headed witch in front of him?

Ginny saved him the trouble of carrying on by interrupting him. "Look, Harry, my business's my own. I can take care of myself well enough. Why do you even care, anyway?"

And here she eyed him warily.

Harry sputtered. "Why do I even care? Gin, I'm your friend! And I'm your brother's friend!"

He immediately regretted the last sentence because it implied that he only looked at her as his friend's little sister, but went on anyway.

"Of course I care about you! I care about your wellbeing as a friend!"

"Oh. Thanks, Harry, but I really can take care of myself—besides, if Wolfe's really that bad, don't you all trust that I won't be so blind as not to see it?

I can survive on my own, Harry." Ginny then immersed herself in her book once again.

An eternity of unbearable silence seemed to ensue, before Harry gathered the courage to break it.

"I-I care for you m-more than a friend too." He managed to stutter out, his gaze fixed firmly on his kneecaps.

He didn't dare look up, but he heard a sharp intake of breath from Ginny.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shut her book gently.

"Harry, look at me. Look me in the eye." Her voice was soft, but firm.

He obeyed her obediently and was frightened to see sorrow in her eyes.

Then she asked him a question that totally threw him off.

"Harry—do I know you?"

Harry stared at her in astonishment, his mouth hanging open, and he could only manage a rather intelligent-sounding, "Huh?"

Ginny continued anyway.

"Do you know me?"

Harry could only continue gawking at her in befuddlement, as if the lovely female in front of him had suddenly morphed into ugly, odious Snape when he had least expected it.

Ginny smiled weakly at his confusion.

"You see, Harry, I don't think I know you.

And I don't think you know me either.

Because if you did, you would have known that I've been waiting for six years, not counting all of my years not in Hogwarts, for you to utter what you just did.

And you would have known that I've decided to cease waiting only just a few weeks ago."

In his flabbergasted state, Harry managed somehow, though he himself didn't quite know how either, to gasp out, "But- but Hermione said you had given up on me in your fifth year!"

Ginny shot him a smile laced with bitterness.

"Ever heard of lying to cover up your feelings, Harry? But then again, if you had really known me, you would have known that that was what I did at that time.

And if you really do know me, you would know that it's killing me inside to see the irony of the situation- a few weeks ago, I rendered whatever feelings I had for you dead, and a few weeks later, you tell me you fancy me.

Kind of makes you think, doesn't it? How you can see the same person every day, assume that you know him or her, only to realize in the end that you really know absolutely _nothing_ about him or her.

Because maybe you've never really bothered to get to know him or her all these years."

Ginny stopped there. She couldn't go on; she stifled a silent sob.

"Gin, I didn't know-" Here Harry paused in horror as he realized the irony of his statement.

"It's okay, Harry. Like I said, I can survive on my own." Ginny recollected herself and stood up, book in hand.

As if Harry wasn't crushed enough, she then delivered the line that properly shattered his heart.

"I'm sorry, but you're too late, Harry—I'm already going out with Wolfe Canewell."

Ginny fled up to her dormitory and the safety and warmth of her bed.

Downstairs, Harry remained motionless in shock and horror at the information he had just received, his mind reeling and trying desperately to block it out and pretend he had never heard it.

Upstairs, Ginny flung her book to the far end of the room, threw herself on her bed, buried her face in her pillow, and sobbed her heart out.

**wRiter's Ramblings:**

Yes, sad, sad, sad. The first part of the story is rather… dismal, don't you think? I found it quite saddening to write too. However, have no fear—things will look up in the next chapter, to be sure. :) And it's not as if Ginny doesn't fancy Harry in this chapter either—she's just hurt, and in denial. Yup.

Now, unless you want the wRiter to be sad, sad, sad too—and seeing as how I'm sure all of you are nice, decent people, you won't—please review:) A review is pretty much quick and easy to do—it's just a click of a button away! In fact, that pretty little button down there! Yes… you know you want to! Hustle:)

Thank you! Much love from me:)


	2. Two

It's completely over between Harry and Ginny—not that anything ever really began in the first place. Then Ginny loses her memory, and Harry wins her heart back. Faced with the choice, will Harry agree to let Ginny regain her memory?

Set in Harry's seventh year—he defeated Lord Voldemort in his sixth with the help of Ron, Hermione and Ginny, and is more or less recovering from the trauma and adapting to life as a normal boy—and Ginny's sixth year.

**Do I Know You?**

**Two**

Harry scowled into his goblet of pumpkin juice.

Across the table, a concerned Hermione glanced anxiously over at him and, leaning forward, inquired for the fifth time that day, "Harry, what's wrong?"

Beside her, Ron looked up from his ferocious attack of a meat pie and, with his mouth still full, managed, "Yarr, Arry, wadds roong? Yuuve been awcting bwoody all dway, mwate!" which Harry intrepidly interpreted as "Yeah, Harry, what's wrong? You've been acting broody all day, mate!"

Harry shrugged off their well-meant questions with a shake of his head and a frown, preferring to continue glaring down at the still pumpkin juice in his goblet instead.

He grimaced further as he heard the sounds of Hermione chiding Ron on the rudeness of talking with his mouth full, and sensed a long drawn-out, noisy argument looming.

Normally, he would have found this slightly amusing, even if he were somewhat annoyed with their constant bickering, but now, he didn't find it entertaining in the least.

Harry glowered harder at his pumpkin juice, willing it to do something, _anything_.

It remained still, with nary a ripple, as if jeering at his pathetically moody state.

As Harry fixated on the orange-coloured juice, thoughts of reddish-orange hair started flying into his head by colour association.

_Ginny_.

Harry gazed at the juice glumly, his sulk growing more evident by the minute.

It had been a day since that incident. The one where Ginny had made him realize he didn't properly know her at all.

He had tried to get Ginny alone so that he could talk to her and maybe… _apologize_— not that it was going to change anything, he knew— but Ginny had seemed suspiciously busy all of a sudden, and even when he had sometimes found her relaxing and with nothing to do, she had always been surrounded by nothing short of a crowd of students.

She was making sure she was always protected on all sides by people, and ultimately, _avoiding him_, he knew.

And, unfortunately, he couldn't do anything about it.

Harry's expression turned even darker than it had already been as he shook his goblet slightly so that the orange liquid in it swirled.

Sick of watching his pumpkin juice when he himself was well aware of the fact that it did not even interest him remotely, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

Once again, he was lost in a cacophony of noises—the annoying clinking of cutlery against plates, mirthful laughs and giggles from a few girls seated a little way away from him, students calling loudly to each other over the chatter of everyone else, Ron and Hermione shooting off retorts at each other as fast as their mouths could manage…

Harry had to stifle a groan at the sense of déjà vu when his ears suddenly picked out the melodious sound of Ginny's voice over the din everyone else was making.

He slowly raised his head to observe Ginny entering the Hall with Wolfe.

He wondered why they were so late in coming down for dinner before his eyes narrowed at the sight of them.

Wolfe had his bloody _arm _around Ginny's _waist_!

And he seemed to be engaging her in such intense conversation—he was maintaining eye contact with her and smiling at her, though to Harry it seemed more like leering than smiling.

Their faces were so close. Definitely _too _close for Harry's liking.

The sight sickened Harry to no end, but for some perverse reason, he found that he could not tear his eyes away from the couple—it was as if someone had glued his eyes to them and threatened to Avada Kedavra him if he so much as blinked.

Harry's eyes followed the couple intently as they made their way to the Gryffindor table.

Ginny paused at the head of the table, her eyes momentarily disengaged from Wolfe's as she searched the long stretch of diners before her for an empty seat.

Harry followed her eyes as if bewitched, and started a little with alarm when he realized that the closest vacant seat to where Ginny was standing was _right next to him_.

Ginny seemed to have noticed that too, for when Harry looked back up at her, her expression contained an unease that Harry had grown familiar with in the last twenty-four hours. After all, whenever Harry so much as entered the same room as Ginny, even if she was framed by her protective wall of friends, that similar look of unease would etch itself permanently on Ginny's face.

Beside Ginny, Wolfe, however, smirked rather smugly as he comprehended the unoccupied seat right next to Harry and right opposite Ron.

He pointed out the seat to Ginny nonchalantly.

Ginny, not having a proper reason to put forth as to why she would rather not sit there, could only swallow her dread and agree with a weak smile.

Harry's heart pounded as he glimpsed Wolfe walking Ginny down to the seat beside him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron and Hermione bristle slightly too as they took in the situation.

"_Honey_, have a good dinner now," Wolfe drawled as he pulled the chair beside Harry out for Ginny.

Harry's face contorted into a scowl. _What a perfect gentleman._

He could sense fury radiating from Ron too.

"Thanks, Wolfe," Ginny mumbled awkwardly as she slid into the space between the table and the chair. Wolfe pushed the chair back in and she sat down.

"Gin, _sweetheart_, I'll see you after dinner then." Wolfe suddenly leaned in and whispered loudly into Ginny's ear for Harry, Ron and Hermione's benefit, "That _snog session_ was simply _fantastic_, _love_."

The damage having been done, Wolfe waved and slipped away to the Slytherin table, a crafty smile plastered on his face.

Harry gritted his teeth and clenched his goblet until his knuckles turned white.

_Snog session_? No wonder they had been so late.

- - -

Wolfe couldn't help the complacent smile that etched itself firmly on his face as he sauntered toward the Slytherin table.

The looks on their faces—it had been priceless! He had to make every effort to stop himself from hooting with laughter at just the mere thought of it.

_Snog session_. Two simple words that had reaped such instantaneous and hilarious results.

Ginny, the silly girl, had turned beet red and looked as if she longed for a hole to suddenly and magically appear in the ground and swallow her up whole. She had probably wished, of course, that Wolfe hadn't mentioned their pre-dinner kisses so stridently in the hearing of her brother and two friends.

But, Wolfe mused to himself amusedly, _that had been what had made it fun_.

Ginny's git brother had immediately turned a rather unbecoming shade of red and started sputtering like a spoilt train engine.

His Mudblood girlfriend had turned as white as a sheet and emitted a frightened little gasp before putting an arm on him to restrain him from doing anything rash.

Potter had set his jaw firmly and gripped his goblet of juice as if he wished to snap the whole thing into half.

The bumptious smile on Wolfe's face faded and he lifted his eyebrows slightly.

Potter's reaction had been the most… _unexpected._

The way he had responded—it was almost as if he had been… _jealous_.

Most thought-provoking…

"Hey, Wolfe! You're late for dinner!" Wolfe was jolted out of his reverie by his fellow sixth-year Slytherin, Cyril, as he reached the Slytherin table.

"Yeah… was caught up with some _activities_…" Wolfe parked himself in the seat next to Cyril.

Another sixth-year Slytherin who was seated on the other side of him snickered. "Let me guess—activities which require a lot of contact with a certain gorgeous red-headed member of the opposite sex?"

Wolfe gasped in mock surprise. "As a matter of fact, yes! How did you _ever_ guess?"

Cyril snorted beside him. Then his expression took on one of pure glee. "I noticed that you managed to provoke Potter and his gang and got them all het-up just now—what did you do?"

At the mere remembrance of the incident, Wolfe guffawed out loud. He was soon regaling the spell-bound Slytherins with the tale of what he had just done not fifteen minutes ago.

"Wow, good one, you sly dog, you! That idiot Weasly must have been livid! And Potter must have been so jealous that he could have burst!" The Slytherin next to him (not Cyril) was hooting uncontrollably with laughter.

Wolfe could feel his eyebrows moving up instinctively, and crossed his arms. He turned his head to face the Slytherin.

"Why would Potter have any reason to feel _jealous_?" He inquired of him coolly.

The disbelief on the Slytherin's features was evident. "You mean you didn't _know_? Potter is head over heels for Ginny Weasly! It's so obvious that everyone but Weasly herself is aware of it!"

Wolfe felt his eyebrows travel even higher up his forehead. This was news.

"Potter's interested in _my girl_?" He questioned rather incredulously and a tad bit disdainfully. Was this guy sure of what he was implying?

It was Cyril who gave an affirmative answer this time. "Yeah—it's really quite apparent from that lovesick look he always wears around your Weasly. Oh, and he's forever shooting her that sickening smile of his-"

"Okay, okay." Wolfe cut him short with a dismissive and sharp wave of his right hand. He rubbed his temple in disgust with his other free hand.

Potter fancied Ginny Weasly.

Ginny Weasly- _his girl_.

Did this mean _competition_?

It was kind of unbelievable since he had not even _bothered_ to suspect before. But two self-assured fellow Slytherins could not possibly be all that wrong.

Wolfe looked up and threw a glance in the direction of the Gryffindor table.

His eyes narrowed immediately.

Potter's gaze was fixed raptly on the figure of Ginny, who was conveniently seated beside him thanks to Wolfe. Wolfe felt like kicking himself.

Potter's expression was unreadable as he stared absorbedly at Ginny. The food on his plate was untouched, with even the cutlery still in the position it had been in before dinner had commenced.

Wolfe could sense that Ginny was buckling under Potter's intense gaze. Her cheeks were flushed and she kept picking at her food absent-mindedly and looking away determinedly in the other direction so that her eyes would not meet Potter's.

Wolfe did not like the effect Potter had on Ginny. _At all_.

Ginny was a person with a straight-forward nature—if she didn't care about Potter in the least, she would have just looked him in the eye and demand that he quit staring at her because it was making her uncomfortable. The fact that she wasn't even attempting to do anything about the situation sort of indicated that…

Wolfe made an angry noise at the back of his throat.

It was one thing for Potter to fancy Ginny, but judging from the signs Ginny was sending out without even her knowledge, it looked like it was quite probable that she reciprocated his feelings too.

Wolfe gnashed his teeth together. This wouldn't do. He hadn't even done what he had set out to do with Ginny yet because she was being so stuffy and prudish about _it_.

"Potter's got to go down." Wolfe seethed.

The two Slytherins beside him both gave him an inquisitive look.

"What are you going to do?" Cyril demanded, intrigued.

Wolfe's eyes roved the table.

They finally rested on a heavy-looking stack of empty spare plates that were opportunely located just a little distance away from him at the rather secluded end of the table.

_Perfect_.

"You'll see." Wolfe smirked sinisterly as he pulled his wand out of his pocket with a flourish.

He then muttered an incantation under his breath and slowly levitated the bulky set of plates.

- - -

Ginny absent-mindedly skewered a peaon her fork and popped it into her mouth. She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat.

She wished that she were sitting anywhere but here right now.

Tensions had ridden especially high ever since Wolfe had uttered the words '_snog session_' a while ago. At the back of Ginny's clouded mind, she wondered why he had done so in the first place. And so stridently too.

Anyway, because of that itty bitty, but _loud_, remark of Wolfe's, Ron was now sending her even more venomous death glares than before.

Ginny bet that he had been trying his best to telepath her death messages too, by the looks of things.

He had been simply _impossible_ this evening, constantly instructing either Harry or Hermione, "Would you kindly tell _the red-headed Gryffindor girl who was just snogging a Slytherin_ to pass me the salt?" before shooting an extremely murderous glare in Ginny's direction.

Ginny stabbed a portion of the meat on her plate viciously before shoving it into her mouth and chewing vigorously.

And then there had been Hermione.

She had been wearing this upset look and had been fully absorbed in her own little thoughts all through dinner—Merlin, Ginny had not known what else to do but gawk dumbly at her, open-mouthed, when she had absent-mindedly tried to eat her glop of mashed potato with a _knife_ earlier on.

Occasionally, though, she would snap out of her reverie and behave normally, attempting to strike up light-hearted conversation with questions fired towards Ginny about her day.

Hermione had even stuck up for Ginny and glared daggers at Ron when he had directed a snide comment at her once—Ron had taken a considerably shorter time to shut up then.

Ginny was reminded of how much she just loved Hermione at times.

Ginny munched a green bean distractedly and stared ahead of her into space.

Harry had reacted too.

He had kept silent throughout the whole dinner, not saying a word to her or anybody else.

Ginny wished that she could say that he had been too busy with the food on his plate to bother to make conversation, but the obvious fact was that he had _not _been. His food was literally untouched, and she had yet to see him even pick up his fork or spoon as of the moment.

All he had kept doing was grimace down into his goblet of pumpkin juice, sometimes even rocking the damn thing a little so that he could see the liquid in it swirl, if she was lucky.

And when he hadn't been preoccupied with his goblet, he had been shooting her strange glances. Occasionally, he had even watched her intently for extended periods of time. His face had always been expressionless then.

Ginny didn't know what to make of this odd behavior on Harry's part, and wondered just what exactly was processing in his mind whenever he looked her way.

She wasn't certain just how she should act under his intense gaze either, which had resulted in her feeling extremely self-conscious, constantly turning her head to face the other direction, playing with her hair—generally _faltering_, under Harry's brilliant emerald-green-eyed stare.

Ginny crossed her arms petulantly and glanced sideways at Harry out of the corner of her eye.

There was that impassive gaze of his again.

Ginny tightened her hold around herself and made an irritated noise at the back of her throat.

If only Wolfe hadn't made that stupid remark in the first place. Maybe then she wouldn't have to deal with all this damn rigidity in the air.

Ginny exhaled noisily in frustration.

Why _had_ Wolfe even brought up that piece of information in the first place? It had been completely irrelevant and unnecessary.

Besides, their '_snog session_' as he had called it, hadn't been _that_ great.

Ginny couldn't even fathom why he had branded it a _snog session_—Wolfe had merely pulled her into a broom closet and exchanged a few innocent kisses with her before she had firmly pulled away and reminded him that dinner was waiting. That was all. Hardly a '_snog session_', as he had so exaggeratedly put it.

Ginny closed her eyes and rubbed her temples wearily.

Come to think of it, '_snog sessions_', if that was what they were—though Ginny seriously doubted it— were all that had taken place between Wolfe and herself for the past few days that they had been together.

Every time she was with Wolfe, it would be all about the 'snogging'—theirs was very obviously a physical relationship, and a physical relationship only.

And Ginny wasn't sure she wanted that.

Wolfe never really _talked_ to her, or bothered to get to know her. They just didn't and _couldn't_ connect. Whenever they were together, it would always be an absent-minded, "How was your day?" before he dragged her into yet another broom closet.

Eyes still shut firmly together, Ginny propped her head up on her hands.

She was sick and tired. Sick and tired of playing Wolfe's 'snogging' games.

And they got worse. Every so often, while they were at it in the broom closets, Wolfe's hands would start to… well, _wander_. She would immediately pull away and stop him, informing him that she rather that they stick to plain kissing for now. However, though he always nodded and curled his lip in agreement, he never seemed to be able to properly get the message, for he would be doing it again a few broom closet sessions later.

Sometimes, for some inexplicable reason—okay, so maybe it wasn't _that_ inexplicable— Ginny felt as if she were being _used_, as if she were just a mere pawn in Wolfe's shifty little game of cunning chess.

And, sometimes, Ginny sensed that Wolfe's behavior towards her was deliberately condescending, or even _malicious_.

Like Wolfe's ill-placed remark just a while ago for instance. Surely he would know that such a comment would provoke unpleasant reactions from her brother and friends? He couldn't have been oblivious to the fact—did he do what he did out of… spite?

Ginny's eyes fluttered open and flickered over to the direction of the Slytherin table.

Wolfe and his Slytherin cronies seemed to greatly amused by something, sniggering raucously as they were as they gazed upwards in the direction of the sky.

Ginny's brow knitted in bewilderment. What was so funny?

Lazily, her own eyes trailed their gazes upwards to…

_a whole bulky stack of porcelain plates hovering some way above Harry's head_.

Ginny's eyes widened to liken saucers as her mind finally registered what was happening and, even worse, what was _going to_ happen.

Everything seemed to be in slow motion after that, like a cheesy scene in a Muggle movie her dad had once taken her to see, in which a man had _veeery slooowly_ lurched forward to take a bullet for his sweetheart.

"_Harry_! _No_!" Her shrill scream pierced through the air a split-second too late.

Ginny didn't even need to glance up at the plates to _know _that Wolfe had released his hold over the plates, and that they were now hurtling on a dangerous course to a forceful collision with _Harry's head_.

Without thinking, she jerked off her seat and lunged towards Harry, roughly pushing his upper body down so that a stunned Harry found himself blinking rapidly into his lap.

This position of his meant that Ginny's hands were on his back, resolutely pinning his upper body down.

Which also meant that _she was directly in the line of fire of the plates_.

The realization hit Ginny just a nanosecond before the plates came crashing down on her head.

_Thud_. _Crash_.

The impact was powerful and sent Ginny reeling back so that when she fell, she found in her semi-conscious state that she was half-sprawled on the floor, the back of her head having landed on the soft cushion of her seat.

_Pain_.

Unbearable _pain_.

Was this what hell felt like?

Ginny felt something wet trickling down her cheek.

She could taste the metallic tang of blood in her mouth—her blood?

Ginny blearily opened her eyes.

Everything was a blur. All she could make out was a riot of colours clashing and quick movements flashing before her. Somehow, despite the intensely loud throbbing in her head, she could make out random people yelling and screaming around her too.

Wait… amidst the hazy splash of different colours, a new one had appeared—_emerald green_.

_Harry_.

Ginny hoped he was alright.

Ouch—the throbbing in her head was getting more severe, more excruciating.

Ginny didn't think she could hold out for much longer—the pain was too agonizing.

The faint myriad of colours was becoming fuzzier now, and pitch-black darkness was enveloping it…

And then Ginny blacked out completely.

- - -

Harry didn't know what hit him.

One minute he was examining the contents of his goblet, and the next, he found himself examining the material of the part of Hogwarts uniform covering his lap, because some sort of pressure had pushed his upper body, from his torso onwards, down.

Ginny screaming '_Harry! No!_' before he found himself in this awkward position did not help clear his confusion any, either.

Harry only had time to ponder his situation for a millisecond before he heard _it_.

That sickening _thud_ sound, followed by a _crash_, that made his stomach turn.

The weight on his back holding him down having been suddenly released, Harry rapidly raised his head in an attempt to make some sense out of what was happening to him.

What he saw struck fear in him like Voldemort had never done.

Harry's heart caught in his throat as he helplessly watched Ginny stumble backwards and finally slide to the floor, her head fortuitously coming to rest on the seat of her chair, which helped to cushion her fall.

_Ginny_!

Was that thick reddish liquid dripping from her head _blood_?

Harry leapt off his chair and rushed to her.

Ginny's eyelids fluttered open, but she seemed to be in a daze.

"Ginny! Ginny! Please be okay! _Ginny_!" Harry fell to his knees, grabbed Ginny by the shoulders and gently shook her.

_No_… Ginny's pupils were dilating and she seemed to be losing consciousness.

"Ginny! _Ginny_! Wake up! _Wake up_!" Harry begged desperately, even though he now knew that his pleas would be futile—Ginny's eyes were already closed and her head had lolled to one side.

Harry looked up and demanded furiously, "What happened!"

His question was greeted by the blank and tearful faces of Ron and Hermione respectively, the hysterical wailing of a traumatized first-year who had been dining beside Ginny, and the general panicking of everyone else around him.

Everything had happened so fast.

Harry's sharp eyes darted to shards of porcelain, some of them stained red, which were strewn all over the floor.

His intuition allowed him to guess the rest.

"Mr. Potter— Ms Weasly needs to be taken to the Hospital Wing at once!" Harry turned to see an ashen-faced Professor McGonagall hastening over towards him and Ginny from the staff table.

Harry did not need telling twice.

Scooping Ginny into his arms and muttering, "You'll be alright, Gin, you'll be alright…" feverishly into her ear, he sprinted out of the Great Hall as fast as his legs could take him, Ron and Hermione hot on his heels.

- - -

"Mr. Potter, you really needn't stay—Ms Weasley's condition has stabilised and she's going to be fine. You can always come back to see her tomorrow morn—" Madam Pomfrey's well-intentioned speech was cut short by Harry.

"Thanks, but I want to stay." was Harry's laconic reply.

"Suit yourself then, but I'm going to bed. If you need me, just knock." Madam Pomfrey adjusted the sheets around Ginny one last time before retiring to the inner regions of the Hospital Wing.

Harry stared distraughtly at the unconscious red-haired girl lying prostrate on the hospital bed. Her head was swathed in bandages, which somehow seemed to dull the vivid red of her hair.

Was Ginny really going to be alright?

Madam Pomfrey had said so. Her words now echoed in Harry's head in a booming voice—"She'll need some strong ointment and I'll have to bandage her head up, but she'll be fine. Might even come to tomorrow, for all you know. I should know—the force that hit her was quite akin to a Bludger, and the Wing gets casualties like that often enough once Quidditch season rolls by."

The force that hit her... weirdly enough, it had consisted of a stack of _plates_. Harry had obtained the whole story from a distressed Ron and a sobbing Hermione.

"I-I just h-heard Gin-Ginny suddenly scr-scream, an-and then s-she lurched for-forward—" Hermione had tried to hold back tears, to no avail.

"Y-yeah, and then she pushed you down and these plates crashed onto her head without warning—the plates seemed to be conjured out of thin air, or levitated, or something—" Ron had rambled on in an extremely troubled manner as he had gazed in disbelief at his injured sister on the hospital bed.

Plates? Originally meant for him, Harry, until Ginny had gotten in the way?

Harry definitely intended to find out who was at the bottom of this, and he supposed Ron did too—he had worn a determined, blazing look on his face on his way out.

Harry had insisted on staying (at the beginning of the year, Madam Pomfrey had decided to relax her no-visitor-after-hours rule to allow one visitor per hospitalized person after hours, as long as there were not too many people in the Hospital Wing, and the visitors kept the noise level down).

Of course, Ron had wanted to stay too, and had even argued with Harry that he was Ginny's brother, thus he should be the one to stay with her through the night. However, Hermione, sensing something was up, had somehow managed to convinced Ron to go back to the Common Room with her and allow Harry to keep vigil by Ginny's bedside.

"Harry's probably feeling awful that Ginny's in this state, and the least you could do for him is to allow him to stay by Ginny's side! Besides, you know we'll definitely be back here as early as possible tomorrow morning…" These words, coming from Hermione's mouth, had induced Ron to reluctantly return with her to the dormitories.

Harry was reminded of how much he just loved Hermione (in a platonic sense, of course) at times.

Now, as he sat there staring at the unconscious figure of Ginny Weasley, Harry wondered at how she had put herself in the line of fire for him. He'd really rather that the plates had hit him, and that he be the one lying on the hospital bed right now, and not her, but he knew that he couldn't change anything. He could only hope for the best.

Drawing the bed sheets more tightly around Ginny, Harry sighed.

It was going to be a long night.

- - -

Ginny struggled to open her eyes—why did her eyelids feel as if they were made of lead?

At first, all she could see was inky black surroundings.

Then, slowly, a nebulous image of silver and black started to appear before her.

Ginny blinked.

Where was she?

Her eyes having finally adjusted to the light—or darkness, in this case—she could make out silver moonlight streaming into the shadowy room through a nearby window.

Glancing around and noticing the uniform rows of white beds and cabinets chock-full of oddly-shaped bottles around her, Ginny realized with a start that she was in the Hospital Wing.

In a flash, it all came back to her—the plates crashing down on her head, the agony of those few moments, her passing out…

No wonder, then, that there was a dull throbbing at the back of her head.

Ginny threw a glance around the room—were there any other patients besides her?

Oh? She had a visitor—there was someone sleeping fitfully at the side of her bed.

Silver moonlight illuminated tousled jet-black hair, glasses and an upset expression, even while the visitor was sleeping.

Ginny smiled and put a hand on the slumbering visitor's arm.

"Harry." She sighed softly.

Then, she grimaced.

The once-dull throbbing at the back of her head had grown more intense, more painful now.

The room also appeared to be shrinking, growing dimmer by the second...

Ginny closed her eyes and allowed herself to once again succumb to the deep and dark throes of unconsciousness.

- - -

"Harry, wake up—the sun is already up!" Harry was awakened by Hermione's voice and her hand on his shoulder.

Harry yawned and blinked for a bit, feeling extremely disorientated—he had to take pains to remind himself that he was in the Hospital Wing, by Ginny's bedside, before the tragedy of the previous night sank in and left him feeling despondent again.

Harry cast a quick glance around the Wing. Hermione and Ron had already arrived to see Ginny, and they were now staring helplessly at her, worried expressions etched on their faces. Madam Pomfrey was bustling around the room, mixing bottles of medication and administering them to the few other patients who were also hospitalized.

Feeling a slight pressure on his arm, Harry looked down and was surprised to see Ginny's hand on it.

He looked back up at her and sighed heavily, marveling how, at the back of his mind, the soft sunlight filtering in through the window played so brilliantly on her hair.

If only she were awake for him to tell her that.

"She didn't come to at night, Harry?" Ron addressed Harry, looking ever hopeful. When Harry shook his head wordlessly, his face fell.

"Don't worry, Ron—Ginny will be okay… it's just a matter of time before she regains consciousness…" Hermione reassured Ron, slipping her hand into his.

Harry stared. Since when had his two best friends become more than… well, _friends_?

However, he didn't have time to mull over this or ask any questions, for it was just at that moment that Ginny suddenly stirred.

"Ginny!" Harry, Ron and Hermione collectively started and chorused as Ginny's eyelids fluttered open.

Ginny seemed dazed as her eyes adjusted to the light of the room. Slowly, though, she propped herself up a little on her pillow and gazed about the room.

Her eyes fell on Ron.

"Ron!" She exclaimed, obviously glad that he was here.

She then turned to Harry, who was grinning widely from his relief. Her expression grew puzzled.

"Ginny—"Harry began, but was interrupted by her.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said in a polite but distinctly baffled tone, "Do I know you?"

**wRiter's Ramblings:**

I'm so, so sorry that this tookfive months to write—I sort of had writer's block and ceased writing for some time before continuing when 'the mood felt right'. In between, I was working on a one-shot that will hopefully be finished and uploaded soon, but that's another story (Please pardon the pun. Lol).

Anyway, Chapter Two of Do I Know You? is finally here, so please do review to let me know what you think! I myself do not really know what to think of this chapter—why don't you tell me:) Was the 'plates-come-crashing-down' scene too incredible? Was it too melodramatic? Or is the chapter generally okay? (Please let it be the last one. Lol) Whatever it is, do give me some feedback. :)

The next chapter (if you're looking forward to it, at least) should be up here before you know it, though I make no promises. I shall try my very best to finish writing it (honestly, I haven't even started yet) soon, and I really don't think it'll take as long as this one to complete. Also, Lily and James shippers, look out for my one-shot featuring them, titled 'Amortentia', which should be out soon too. In the meantime, people, please do review:)

Thank you! Much love from me:)


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